


Bloodletting and Forgetting

by dr_zook



Series: Vestigium Dei [4]
Category: Bible (New Testament), The Bible
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bible, Bibleslash, Dubious Consent, Hand Job, Hiking, M/M, eastern pyrenees if you're interested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two figures are climbing a mountain, have a short break-- and no Kit-Kat. Have a talk and go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodletting and Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liriaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liriaen/gifts).



_the dive into numbness, the only option today_  
_retreating into oblivion never seemed so effortless_  
_forging the path within an eternal descent_  
_hope, progress and growth spring from the crypt of realized fallacies_  
_living through death_  
_learning to love_  
_embracing discontent_  
_face down_  
_bloodletting and forgetting_  
_exorcising demons_  
_exercising futility_  
  
_[MINSK - Bloodletting and Forgetting]_

 

He is nothing but human here.

Now.

He still owns his natural charisma, yes.

But since he died for the first time there are no miracles left.

_Look what I've created here. I made him divine and human at once. Let him die. Let him live again. Let him wander around. His mere existence is my proof._

Yeah, maybe. Probably.

But he's worthless after his resurrection, like a stuffed puppet. He did his job and now-- he's supposed to dwell dazed besides His throne? Small wonder he needs a break. Lucifer needs one, for sure. And a smoke. He sighs and snorts softly.

Mary's son looks up, a halo of fatigue hovering over him. The air around them is sizzling with dry heat and is heavy with the odor of rosemary and juniper, spurge laurel and rockroses. It's no olfactory overload, but close.

"Are you tired yet?" Lucifer asks while lighting his cigarette.

Jeshua watches him stubbornly.

_Oh, I wonder how you define stubborn, sweet Jeshua._

And yet, when he smiles, it's still somehow all-knowing and maybe even arrogant. Lucifer is caught by another wave of sickness. They come quite often lately, always out of a sudden with Jeshua around him all the time. He coughs and spits out; something slimy hits the sun-roasted stone Jeshua is sitting on to catch his wind, and crawls away. Lucifer's fingers twitch, just like his left eye-lid, and he wants to hit Jeshua. Really hard.

"Or are you regretting our little tête-à-tête already?" He pokes him, he knows it. "Tell me: are you in doubt, rabbi?"

He likes churning up Jeshua every time he might have collected himself again. Churning up his qualms and prospecting him the sureness of an edge. Including the abyss beyond. He's not sure why he can't be content with the man's confession of needing _his_ help. Wanting his help. He aches for more than these few words. More than some kisses, ripped from his mouth. The chance of hurting him won't be enough: the gaping void inside of him is rumbling and growling hungrily.

Jeshua swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, just inhaling the clear and bright air of the Catalan mountain range. Either ignoring or maybe just not listening to Lucifer's thoughts. Eventually he says, "I could, maybe _should_ have been in doubt two thousand years ago, yes. Actually, I have been in doubt. But I am not anymore, Samael. I know things now. Almost everything. I had another teacher. I did wander places not known to another living soul, nor anybody else. Not even you know about them. And I won't tell you; I can't and I have promised not to."

Lucifer stares at the matchbox he's still fumbling with and lets another burning stick tumble onto the straw-dry grass. Feels a short sting of disappointment when Jeshua stomps it casually, and thus obviates a nice little forest fire. He pouts and glares wordlessly at the man.

"So, no doubt this time," Jeshua goes on. "Fear? Yes, probably. Certainly pain, also. You won't let the chance pass you by this time, will you? And, of course, loss. Oh, yes. There will be things lost, but not only for me. And I strongly hope, you're aware of this, my friend."

_Oh,_ my friend _now? Don't fool me, rabbi. And don't fool yourself._ Nausea's cold fingertips are trailing down Lucifer's spine again and forces himself to breathe evenly.

"What is it, Jeshua? Did you finally become aware of the most important thing for somebody who's doomed to be immortal? Loneliness. The fucking, aching _need_ to share this godforsaken burden with somebody, who suffers the same." His laugh is drenched in bitterness and resignation. "It's two thousand years for you now, no? Well, ask me how long it has been for me since I was cast down, humiliated and defiant. Then ask me how long it took me to get a grip again. Try to imagine what I went through. Alone, all by myself. Forget the other nitwits who went down with me! They know nothing-- Spitfires, devoted servants and bad singers, all together." He lights another smoke. "You know what? I feel nothing for them. They're dumb," he punctuates with waves of the tip of his cigarette, "squealing and wailing for their home, lost. They aren't able to open their eyes and take what is theirs now.

"Screw them," he says finally. "I can't stand them." Resigned. "But then, I guess one should be grateful for every subject you get." He shrugs and goes silent for a few drags. "They keep the business going, at least."

Jeshua watches him closely; follows the way Lucifer's finely manicured fingers straighten the slightly wrinkled trousers. Two of the nails are blue, though; like he had smashed a hammer onto them, accidentally. "Yes," the man says then. "I heard you were a great singer once," he tries smoothly, smiling a bit.

Lucifer's gaze freezes instantly and Jeshua is hit by the numbing wave of stale energy erupting from him. "Fuck you. You know _nothing_. I was the best. He _loved_ me best. My voice was the clearest and purest of all. There isn't another one like mine." Teeth gnash against each other and his indeed well-tuned voice quivers a bit. "No, there isn't another one like me." Age-old and pent up spite twinkles in his bronze shimmering eyes. "Watch out, rabbi. I'll warn you for the last time. Unless you're determined to pay for it thoroughly, you should better keep your tongue safe."

"Well," Jeshua whispers with cast down eyes. "Maybe it _is_ time for me to pay." And he rises, and his slender and a bit callused fingers dive beneath a coarse, but light cotton jacket and catch each of his shirt buttons, one by one, pushing them gently through their holes, until the stark white cloth flaps against Jeshua's bared midriff.

Lucifer swallows. His nostrils flare and he catches the well-known whiff of sandalwood and salt, of sun and earth, that clings to the Son of Man. He has seen him naked before, yes. More than once. That one time was especially impressive, with Jeshua's piss running down his legs, dripping from his chiseled, elegant toes; mingling in the sand with his blood and the vinegar of Stephaton's sponge and the tears of his mother and the bile he had heaved up hours ago and, well, Lucifer's sperm. As cramped and drained as Jeshua had been Lucifer doubts that he had noticed his little visit.

And the Adversary certainly didn't write down his masturbation fantasies like that crackbrained cunt from Ávila.

But _this_ is different. Jeshua lays himself bare in front of Lucifer's eyes. One piece of clothing follows the next and Lucifer can't do much more than stare and breathe and press his fingernails further into his palms.

"What makes you think, you haven't paid enough yet?" Lucifer hears himself ask. His voice sounds like from very far away and he wonders why he hesitates to move. To take Jeshua here and now. Ruthlessly. Taking. Taking fucking _all_ of him. And the cicadas are almost deafening him, rubbing an intense staccato, entwining it with his own thudding heartbeat.

"I wouldn't be here, if it had been enough, Samael." Jeshua stands straight, like somebody, who would do anything.

Yes, anything.

Lucifer has seen lots of those. Grew eventually tired of them. They wanted this woman and that jewel, this cupbearer and these acreage. More money and other women. Always the same drivel - and the payment: always their soul. Lucifer just grew bored. Listening to their wailing and pleading.

_But this is different._ Jeshua has no soul to exchange; for he can't die and what the fuck is Lucifer supposed to do with a soul he can't heap onto the others? When the shit is coming down, yes, then maybe Jeshua is allowed to leave the scenery. _After_ doing the judging job, of course. Which will take its dear time. Lucifer knows bureaucracy too well.

"We are only hiking, rabbi. Climbing the holy Canigó," he says slowly. "Are you really offering all of your flesh for this nevertheless breathtaking sight? I just told you before: don't fool yourself, _whelp_. And don't fool me." He steps up to him, punching at Jeshua's sternum with his flat hand, so that the man takes a few tumbling steps backwards, his eyes shut on instinct. His fingers are gripping his clothes tightly.

Lucifer slaps them out of his hands. "What is it, Jeshua? Are you afraid? No? Why can't you obviously fathom what a creature like me would be able to do to _you_ , without ever batting an eye? I could make you weep with only one twist of my pinky finger, rabbi, and wouldn't. Fucking. Care."

Jeshua whispers something, but the blood roaring in Lucifer's ears makes it difficult to understand. So he delivers another blow making Jeshua tumble over a big pebble and sit down onto his bottom, quite harshly. Then Lucifer crouches over his naked form, grabs his chin and stares into those endless, steely grey eyes.

"Repeat," he orders coldly.

Jeshua finally flinches a bit and says bewildered, "But you didn't do anything likewise."

"No," the Serpent hisses. "And you know why?"

Jeshua shakes his head.

"Because you _wait_ for it. You wait for me to defile you." Lucifer kneels over Jeshua's thighs, lets his other hand sink down to Jeshua's crotch and scrapes his fingernails over the sensitive skin of his penis. "But I won't victimize you."

Jeshua's eye-lids flutter, his fingers scramble in the sand behind him and Lucifer licks over his jaw-line.

"It's not that easy, sweet Jeshua. You wanted me to show you the things worth _enjoying_ here? Well, I enjoy the yearning I ignite within humans. To shove them down to the very dregs, to show them what it means to have lost everything, and then to do anything to regain at least a sham rope of sand of it." He moans achingly into Jeshua's ears. "Our deal, sweet rabbi, is at stake. No more dulcet talking. No more tantalizing sways of your precious hips-- I won't let one of you use me again to reach some weird goals I can't understand."

Jeshua's chest is heaving somewhat strained and his sex is stirring.

Lucifer starts to purr and breathe into the supple and shiny hair before him: he can taste the man's lust and shame, his need to _do_ something, finally. His will is strong, yes, but Lucifer isn't sure, whether Jeshua's flesh is made to endure this. He could break him, make some vegetable out of him, stick him on a pole and let minion demons desecrate him constantly, and wallow in his cries and muffled sobs. All the while knowing about his trapped soul, somewhere inside this spoiled wreck. He could make Him weep and maybe therefore speed up the End of Days.

_And then, what is then?_

"Then it's nothing," Jeshua whispers in Lucifer's ear, having listened to the Devil's thoughts this time. His own fingers are grabbing Lucifer's garments now, slipping beneath them and touching the cold skin of the small of his back. "He doesn't care. Not for me, nor anything else." A small, repressed moan. "I'll tell you what: he grew weary, too."

Lucifer shivers because of the unused proximity to the man. Almost like two opposite poles of a magnet; he feels the urge to bring as much space as possible between the two of them, but at the same time he fucking knows, that they fit. Somehow. His pelvis grinds against Jeshua's, who stifles a groan and continues: "Then is nothing. Nada," a tear, glistening with anticipation, trickles from the corner of his eye. Lucifer's tongue catches it, before it's lost in the shock of chestnut skeins, and his taste buds threaten to explode.

Lucifer's hands caress the sun-kissed skin bared for him. He has heard the sadness clinging to Jeshua's voice, just like resigned wantonness, and his pointy filed nails scrape along slightly quivering flanks. Apply some more pressure to scribe tiny vermillion rivulets. He grabs again Jeshua's penis, this time without any subtle innuendo, but providing a tight channel to thrust into. Lazily.

Jeshua sheds more tears now, though his eye-lids are tightly shut. As much as Lucifer misses the opportunity of diving into those star fields, he doubts that he has seen the Son of Man more enchanting before: the fainéant ripple of muscles still to be sated beneath this beckoning pall of tissue. The healthily gleaming and thick hair he pushes the back of his head into in a steady rhythm. Baring his Adam's apple, accentuating the hollow between his collar bones.

Lucifer laps at the sweat trickling over Jeshua's sternum, and sighs. Lays his ear on Jeshua's breast to listen to his sobbing breath and the raging heartbeat. Gnaws then at the lowest rib peaking into sight before the skin dives down to spread over the valley of Jeshua's belly, which is trembling and thrumming in the rhythm of Lucifer's applied hand-job.

"Poor Miriam, who never saw you enrapt like this. What a show she had missed," the Devil hisses. "The perks of being your wife-- she only sampled them outside your bed, didn't she?" He chuckles and watches how Jeshua's hand, which is not gripping Lucifer's neck, scrambles for something to hold on beyond him. "Alas, but your bed was never cold, I know."

Beams of sunlight make the tiny hairs of Jeshua's forearm glint like golden lion's fur, and he settles for stuffing his fist into his mouth instead. He fails muffling his sobs, of course.

Lucifer grins, shoves the warm fingers from his own neck, and moves to sit on Jeshua's crotch, trapping his erection displeasingly. For some seconds he only stares at his captive, his own pelvis rolling maddeningly against the trapped one, waits for Jeshua to open his eyes again. He doesn't, so he slaps him.

"Enough," he says.

Jeshua's pupils are dilated, blocking out the usual star-bearing mist. He squirms a little against Lucifer, maybe also against the inside of his own skin. And why doesn't he react to Lucifer's barbs? Maybe he has lost his tongue, or doesn't know which one to use.

Lucifer has to chuckle and his fingers swirl through the chest hair in front of him. Trail further down, just beneath Jeshua's ribcage. Caress the scarred and soft pinkness there. He bends to lick across the former wound.

"I can still taste his rusty blade, sweet Jeshua. I even tasted Longinus' nasty thoughts, back then. Stood right behind him, actually. Maybe you saw me? No? Ah, thought so." He refrains from scratching to re-open the gash. Rather settles for another smoke.

"Samael," Jeshua moans voicelessly, when he realizes, that the angel won't do anything else but inhale his tobacco. Lucifer has even stopped grinding his pelvis against him.

"Yeah?"

"Samael, _please_."

"What, _please_? See, I'm torn between your obvious need to be desecrated by me and my own ache to lay my hands onto you. To brand and slowly destroy you. But I just don't want to comply so easily. I still don't understand why our facile goals should be the same. Why you consign yourself to the Devil. Using my own weapons against me: tempting me with your sweet flesh, constantly leaking of the love I'm not a part of anymore. Tell me, why I should not chop you up and send your mutilated carcass back home?"

Jeshua's gaze is clouded and he's staring past Lucifer. "There is no home," he then whispers. "Nowhere." All of his muscles seem to be limp and bereft of life now. "You are cast out. I went voluntarily. And we both can't return. I refuse. I'm tired, I told you before. I can't go anywhere else," his rambling is close to slightly hysteric insanity. Lucifer knows the sound of it too well. But the insane are malleable; no spark of wit indwells the cages of their mind.

Lucifer doesn't like limbs that feel like somebody has cut through their strings. He likes his companions stable and certifiably sane. He'd be bored way too fast, and he's sick of being bored. He slaps Jeshua's cheek again, this time the other one, then grabs his chin and bows forward.

"Rabbi. Get dressed again," he tells Jeshua's brow and puts some sandy strands of chestnut hair behind his ear. "We're not on top yet."

_I am doubt and pain_ , Lucifer thinks and snuffs thoughtfully his cigarette. _I am loss and despair. I am fear. I'm supposed to be everything you are not. Don't become like me, my Lord. Just don't._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics are borrowed from lovely [MINSK](http://www.facebook.com/pages/Minsk/108699229154606). Listen to their music is like witnessing aural porn.


End file.
